


Dear World I'm Pleased To Meet You

by kyanve



Series: When We Were Young And Indestructible [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Pre-EVERYTHING, back when they were all still young and dumb, nobody has rank yet, save these idiots, there will be further college shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyanve/pseuds/kyanve
Summary: (Direct sequel to Pray That There's Intelligent Life Somewhere Up In Space)Alfor and Coran are working on surviving politics and their own studies away from Altea, once they can get back to them.  Meanwhile, the others that will one day be the first Paladins are doing their own fumbling at finding their feet with ongoing conflicts and other problems, some more gracefully than others.





	1. What's best not said - but I say it anyway

Trigel had settled down and stopped spending half of her time trying to keep watch on two of the Alteans, and wasn't grumbling about them anymore. 

That should have been a relief to Gyrgan.

Unfortunately, he knew better - it was too abrupt; she'd gone from fuming and plotting revenge to suddenly serene, with no explanation for it and no actual change in the situation. That just didn't happen. The only explanation that made sense was that she'd found some way to do _something_ , he just hadn't heard about it yet. 

He wasn't expecting her to be friendly with the Alteans; his own people's relationship with them was distant at best, and their alliance with the Dantalion belt mixed with somewhat friendly relations with the Galra kept it from getting any better. He'd also managed to get the story out of her to know why she was specifically furious with the crown prince and his - retainer? Friend? whatever, even though his opinion of it was that the whole thing sounded drunken-day-off-shenanigans stupid. 

None of the rumors he heard about Alfor changed that, really; it was hard to believe the prince was related at all to King Leander, and when she'd been more visibly plotting revenge, he'd been trying to put brakes on it pointing out how Alfor was spending half his time flirting or just being a social butterfly that didn't seem to have any grasp of alliances or enmities. Even if he was apparently a gifted engineer and alchemist, he mostly just seemed like an airheaded fop otherwise, hardly Sworn Nemesis material.

Unfortunately that had backfired, and he'd spent half a quintent trying to get Trigel to admit how much of her hostility was wounded pride at getting bounced off a wall by someone who was about as threatening and ambitiously cunning of an opponent as some of the remote (and edible) oasis avians who'd walk right up to travelers to beg food. 

She vanished off and on. It was just something you accepted with a Wayfinder. Normally he didn't think anything of it, but with her being suspiciously sanguine all of a sudden and Alfor and Coran right there, he was bracing to hear that "someone" had "mysteriously" booby-trapped their rooms or something. Her being polite and well-behaved when Alfor decided to organize a dinner didn't ease his suspicions any, and he made damn sure to stay close to her when that broke up and she left the room.

He wasn't sure if her making no efforts to beg off and ditch him made him feel better or worse.

He managed to sit on it and stick with small talk until they got out of the hallways where someone else was likely to walk by.

"Alright, what did you do."

She blinked, lapsing into feigned innocence too fast for him to buy that she didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean?"

He folded his arms, staring down at her. "The Alteans. You spent a good quintent trying to kill them by glaring at them, and I know you don't just drop that overnight like this. What did you do?"

"Nothing, and I'm not going to do anything." She smiled.

Gyrgan buried his face in one hand, giving a deep groan. "You know this is supposed to be a peace conference right?" He sighed, shaking his head and dropping his hand. "We all know it's probably not going to do much, but that doesn't mean you can set someone up or get someone else to terrorize them for you, especially over something that stupid." 

"Relax, Gyrgan. I'm not putting a hit out on them or anything." 

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

"I had a long talk with my commander about it." 

He closed his eyes, praying for ... he wasn't sure what, strength, intervention, something that would make the universe decide to stop being stupid. He should've known she'd involve the High Commander, but it didn't mean that wasn't probably worse than Trigel doing something herself.

"Oh stop being so dramatic. She'd agreed with you that it was probably something stupid and maybe drunk back when she just had our intel to go on and the Alteans were flailing trying to figure out why we were suddenly raising security, knowing it was the _crown prince_ didn't really change that."

He shot her a flat look; there was a sinkhole in that level sand somewhere. "But?" 

"Well, she's been trying to get a better idea of the candidates for the Altean King's throne anyway, so she said she'd look into it herself, to feel him out and see what he's like."

That was time to start running through prayer litanies in his head wholesale. "You set the High Commander on him."

"She's not going to do anything that would reflect poorly on us here, the poor idiot's perfectly safe." She was still smiling.

"For now," Gyrgan added.

"We're not going to do anything that hasty. Besides, if he's as much of a moron as he's been acting, then why would we want him out of the line for the throne?" 

He stared at her long and tired. Sure, they probably would leave him be in the hopes of hamstringing the Alteans, but it didn't feel like that was the end of it, and besides, he knew the High Commander. There was a lot someone could do without incriminating themselves or doing visible harm, and while Falkir was an incredibly dependable ally and a conscientious leader, she could be absolutely ruthless. 

It wasn't his problem right now, it hopefully wouldn't be his problem, he'd distracted Trigel from doing something hasty and he'd just have to rely on Falkir being older, more experienced, and unlikely to jeopardize her people's standing in larger intergalactic politics over an idiot doing something stupid. As long as Trigel wasn't inclined to do something herself, he'd have to be content with that. "And you're not going to do anything yourself?"

"Why would I?" She shrugged. "Besides, you were _absolutely_ right. I do have better things to do with my time here - and no, none of it's anything out of the spirit of our invitation." 

As much as he wanted to believe her, he wasn't convinced. 

A varga later, he was less convinced when he looked up from his reading to find that she’d vanished from the small lounge they’d settled in. 

****************************

Zarkon had known when he'd been invited and granted leave for it that Alfor's idea of a less formal dinner for the younger family members and staff wouldn't actually be a chance to get away from his father finding ways to keep an eye on him. Even if it had been a chance to get away from some of the older part of the Galran delegation, he'd ended up stuck with a buffer; if the high admiral's daughter wasn't lurking at his elbow, his father's chief advisor's son was. 

And Alfor couldn't really acknowledge familiarity beyond a couple sparse, momentary sympathetic glances. 

It was a relief to get back to his quarters and lose his overly persistant tails, even if it took growling and making it clear he did not welcome their company in private. He never had welcomed them, but he'd been stuck the last few decaphoebs with his father's increasingly persistent attempts at engineering a restricted social circle that would give him little to no room to deviate from his father's standards. 

The lighting was comfortably dim, turned down from what it was normally kept at for the diurnal species from worlds with brighter natural light, and the room was quiet, empty and peaceful enough that he could start to relax and get a breather from having to mind his supposed peers. He was taking apart his formal armor, draping the cloak in a closet to rest; dealing with the constant rigid performance they demanded was exhausting.

Then there was the sound of movement behind him in the room, a scuff on the floor, and his tension headache threatened to return with a vengeance.

"Do you have _any_ survival instinct in that empty skull of yours at _all_?!" He turned on one heel to confront the Altean prince he expected. "You are going to get yourself-"

He froze, hand raised, and stared mouth open at the Dantalion girl, who had her head canted in entirely too much curious amusement.

He bristled with a growl. "What are you doing in my quarters?!" 

"I was hoping to get a chance to talk without all of the other attention, and apparently I'm not the only one to have that idea." 

He wasn't sure if the High Commander's apprentice finding out he'd been meeting in secret with the Altean crown prince was better or worse than one of his "peers" his father kept foisting on him finding out. He straightened, glaring down at her. "That is none of your concern." 

"Of course it isn't." She waved dismissively. "From what I've heard, I can't say I blame you for keeping more private confidence." 

Zarkon narrowed his eyes. "What do you want." 

Trigel raised her hands, open and empty. "Like I said, a chance to talk." 

"You could have done that without breaking into my room." Their people were allied; his father might've been intent on keeping Galra affairs more private, but associating with an ally wouldn't have had much more scrutiny than any other social contact that hadn't been pre-arranged. 

"Not without a lot of other people there to overhear." 

He gave an irritable rumble, flexing the claws on one hand. "Do you really expect me to believe you're here without any ulterior motives?"

"No." She shrugged. "It's not that hard to tell that you and your father don't get along that well. Whether he wants to admit it or not, you and I are going to be leading sooner or later, and we'd like to have some idea what we're going to be dealing with. _I'd_ like to know what I'm actually going to be allied with, instead of what he wants us to see." 

He stared at her, weighing options and how much he felt like trusting it. She was probably safer than most Galra near his rank, but that didn't mean there wasn't an agenda attached to everything, just that it was one less personally close and likely to pop up in his daily life just yet. 

Unfortunately it was also one with further reaching potential consequences; he didn't particularly want to break any of their existing alliances, even if he disliked the way his father handled just about everything in terms of what could be gained from it and how it could be manipulated in his favor. 

"You do realize that there is no actual guarantee I will take the throne after my father's death - the succession is dependent on who proves strongest at the Kral Zera." 

It didn't seem to deter Trigel at all. "According to everything we've heard, you're a good contender to place bets on, and I doubt you're going to abstain from it." 

He shot her a flat look; if he were anyone else, there might've been an option, but the Emperor's blood child not attempting it would be a show of cowardice that would make him a pariah among Galra even among the outlying factions. 

And he was already frustrated enough with some of his father's mis-management for his claws to itch whenever he had to deal with his father's politics and opinions. He knew enough about most of the other potential contenders likely to attempt it to know he wouldn't trust most of them with a mushroom garden, much less the future of their people, and he wasn't about to sit there and watch someone else screw everything up worse than it already was. He was going to make an attempt for the throne, whether he was the cause of his father leaving it or not - 

Clearing that space was getting more tempting as time wore on. 

"If I claim the throne, I will honor our peoples' alliance. You don't need to worry about me turning my back on our shared history." He had run out of patience and energy for politics and posturing and minding other people's opinions and agendas about a half-varga before the dinner had ended, and he hoped fervently he could get the hint across that he was not going to have more of it in his own private quarters when he was trying to relax without stepping outside of diplomatic bounds. "And you can send the High Commander my regards." 

She'd already used an entirely not hypothetical plural, and he had a feeling she was acting at least partly on orders and would be reporting back afterwards. 

"You know you don't have to be quite that formal." He didn't trust how easily comfortable she was, at all. 

He stayed still, staring at her dully. "You broke into my quarters without invitation. I am humoring you for the sake of diplomacy." 

She actually thought it over for a few ticks. "I suppose that's about what to expect, sneaking up on a Galra." 

He gave a small huff, not moving. 

"I'll be seeing you again, then, hopefully under less tense circumstances." She took a step back with a half-bow. "And Zarkon? I'm not with your father." 

****************************************

When the chimes sounded for the morning alarm, Coran didn't want to leave the bed; it'd taken him half the night to manage to sleep, and that had been a mess of nightmares and garbled fragments. 

Alfor was a tangle across the room, bits of nightshirt and skin all mixed with snarled up blankets, hair scattering everywhere with one bleary gleam barely visible in the mess; he apparently didn't do any better.

A muffled whine of "Do we have to move?" came from the other side of the room.

"Well, the Castle docked half a varga ago, sooooo...," Tila trailed off. 

There was enough feeling in the " _quiznak_ " that it was perfectly intelligible even if Alfor did have his face mashed into the bed as if trying to merge with it. 

Coran burrowed back under his own blankets; the Castle docking meant the Queen - Alfor's mother - and his own Grandfather were on station. The Queen was her own kind of force of nature, but his Graandfather was the one he was really dreading dealing with. 

Alfor managed to be the first one moving; at first Coran thought Alfor was trying to burrow in deeper, then his nightshirt flopped on the ground out of the blankets, and Alfor oozed off the bed, taking the entire pile with him to rummage in his luggage. 

It took a bit, but they managed to slip out to the small kitchen room set aside for the Altean delegation. The hope was to get something to eat without encountering their families, but they were at least presentable enough to weather that if it did happen. 

They had some luck; the only one in the small room was Jalis, who looked about as drug through Hell as they did, twitching with a quiet hiss at the door before he recognized them. 

They found the bin of fruit pastries left every morning by their hosts, and for a few doboshes that drug on, the table was silent. Jalis occasionally looked up like he was going to say something, then thought better of it, staring at them almost suspiciously, and it was starting to make Coran jumpy himself. 

He wasn't sure what to make of Jalis yet, but whatever was going on was getting to him. 

"Alright, what happened." 

Jalis stared at him, caught off guard, and squinted at Coran, mulling it over before he answered, with a sideways stare at Alfor. "So I was out a little longer after that dinner of yours." 

Alfor leaned back in his chair, uncertain. "And?"

"I was intercepted on my way back. By the Wayfinder commander." 

Coran and Alfor both blanched, glancing between themselves. Jalis narrowed his eyes at them. "She caught you, too?"

Alfor nodded.

"So what did she want with you?"

"I'm not sure." Alfor leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on folded hands. "She was an absolute terror, and I almost lost my temper when she started picking on Coran. She backed off suddenly and then left after that...."

"She said something about getting the measure of us, since King Leander would be passing the throne on to one of us at some point." It seemed like the only solid thing that could be taken away from her baiting and testing. Alfor nodded in agreement. 

Jalis poked at his food with a frown. "So about the same thing, although I got pinned to a wall first." He paused. "I might have taken a swing at her." 

"Not your brightest moment." 

He shot Alfor a half-hearted venomous look for that. "Blaytz heard the commotion and came to check on what was going on, she left pretty fast after that. He didn't buy the pleasantries, either." 

"Blaytz? Really?" Alfor's knowing smirk got him another filthy look from Jalis. 

Coran did not want to know. It wasn't even that important, anyway, next to the other problem, which would hopefully be a good distraction. "So did she say anything else to you?" 

Jalis folded his arms with a grumble, but took the opening. "Just terrorizing, like you said. Nothing worth repeating."

Which probably meant she'd been fishing for nerves and succeeded. Coran couldn't be too broken up that Jalis wasn't giving a straight answer, since Coran didn't really want to talk about the rest of the conversation, and he was sure Alfor didn't really want to go into their 'trespassing incident' with his competitive cousin. 

Some time passed in awkward silence before the door opened to Liastra, who collected a couple of pastries for herself and then found a space at the table, watching all of them with a raised eyebrow. 

"What's gotten into you three?" 

"Politics," Coran answered, grumping. 

She didn't look like she was going to leave it at that, leveling a more suspicious look at them. 

"I don't suppose you had any encounters with High Commander Falkir," Alfor finally said, half-flat.

"Yes? She's been ... civil, I suppose is the word. Professionally polite, but then, I've also only encountered her in normal public spaces at the conference." At first she was just smugly shaded at Alfor, then she noticed Jalis again, and lapsed back into quiet confusion.

"Of course she's not bothering _you_ ," Jalis grumbled. "If you end up Queen, you're not going to be dealing with the military and foreign affairs like we would - you might be the higher authority, but you're not the one that'd be leading the war effort." 

There was a moment of dawning recognition, and she shifted in her chair. "Are you all alright?"

"Mostly." Alfor leaned on the table, waving it off with one hand. "It sounds like she was testing or something - terrorized us a bit and then left." 

She was still worried. "Does the King know?" 

"You think I'm going to tell him?" Alfor went wide-eyed, leaning back. "We're supposed to be here trying to get the stupid fighting to _stop_ , not make it worse!" 

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's right. King Leander would _not_ take this well." Jalis shook his head. "The negotiations have been close enough to fights as it is, and getting into an actual fight with her doesn't go anywhere." 

"And besides, there's some things we'd rather not get into publicly," Alfor added, looking away at the wall. "Much less with my father."

He got another brief, dim look from Liastra, who then moved to a more incredulous squint at Jalis, who had already sunk down in his seat, not arguing with that addition. 

That lingered, until she finally shook her head, giving up on it.

Not long after that, there was an alert chirp from Alfor's collar, Tila peeking up just over the edge. "So the Castle’s finished docking and the rest of the delegation should be here soon."

Alfor stiffened and Coran groaned quietly; the Castle meant the rest of their family. Coran was going to have to deal with his grandfather, and Alfor would be under that much more potential scrutiny. 

The conference couldn't be over soon enough. 

***************************

It was possible, during some of the proceedings, to find places to the edge of the Galra delegation when everyone else was occupied and get some peace. The common rooms were safe, ish, and he could get away with staying in the areas shared more with friendly delegations, although he wasn't sure he wanted to rely on that too much. He didn't really want to get too cozy around the Dantalion delegation, either, after the High Commander's apprentice had broken into his room, apparently with the High Commander's blessing. It wasn't that he was against conspiracy against his father exactly, but he was not about to trust that, and he didn't want to throw in on something where he had no idea what he was even agreeing to.

it didn't hurt that he'd caught one of the Rygnirathi trying to distract Trigel from glaring daggers at Alfor. He knew they were at war and there was every reason for hostilities, and that the Galra weren't friendly with Altea either while the Dantalion were their allies, but that didn't quiet the urge to growl protectively. Alfor wasn't even a threat to them anyway; he was clever, yes, but he was also flippant and disinterested in the conflicts. 

He hadn't seen Alfor yet in the common areas, but the Altean flagship had just docked with the Queen. It wasn't like he could acknowledge recognition of Alfor in public, anyway.

He'd found a place in one of the common rooms to curl up on one of the larger couches with a history book on his computer, tuning out occasional traffic; there weren't very many people inclined to bother him, anyway. He did notice the Rygnirathi settling on the other end of the long lounge, but they didn't seem to be paying attention to him at first, so he had no reason to distract his focus from his reading.

When he did lower the screen to stretch, they looked over, raising a hand in a lazy wave. "Zarkon, right?"

He looked them over warily, noting marks and charms they were wearing to place them from some of the introductions that'd gone on; higher ranked acolyte, associated with one of the cliff monasteries. 

Also the one that had been hovering around Trigel during the last quintent or so. "Yes... Gyrgan, I believe?"

Gyrgan nodded. "This is the first time I've seen you not staying close by the Emperor." As casual as it was, there was a diplomatic loaded land mine to it Gyrgan had sidestepped; the Galra factions were splintering enough that his father could barely call himself "Emperor" even if he did hold the throne on Daibazaal and had the lit flame, but anyone calling him "King" to his face was asking for it. 

"There are some proceedings I cannot attend." He kept his voice level and as neutral as he could - he preferred not getting drug along, really, but he wasn't about to admit that out loud, and he couldn't be sure how much said to one of their allies would get back to his own people and his father.

It was the same reason Gyrgan was haunting common rooms, probably. "I can't say I mind the break; I'd be curious what they're up to, but I'll hear about it later anyway, and with less of all the hot air." 

Zarkon couldn't exactly say the same - he didn't really trust the versions of events he'd hear from his father and some of his father's upper command. "Haven't you usually been in the larger common rooms?" 

Gyrgan shrugged. "Sometimes you can only take so much noise and people before you need to get somewhere quieter. Not that this's been a bad event, you know, it's just draining keeping track of everything."

Zarkon rumbled quietly, a vague agreement; there was so much Politics going on that he had no real leverage on or control over and less good ways to tell who had what agenda that he couldn't do much but listen and try to start working out who stood where, and that did get tiring. 

Which included Gyrgan. "And your Dantalion companion?"

"Trigel?" Gyrgan shifted, turning and noticeably noting Zarkon's more obvious suspicion. "What'd she do this time?"

Zarkon looked away, watching the wall; he wasn't sure how much he actually wanted to say. 

Gyrgan sighed heavily. "Whatever it was, she's only dangerous if you're a threat to her or hers. ...Or if she feels insulted sometimes. Or if you challenge her." There was increasing weary exasperation. "Anyway, you're probably safe. You don't seem like the type who'd catch her nerves sideways." 

Well, it was worth testing at least. "She broke into my room last night." 

Gyrgan's lack of shock was not comforting. "....And she let you know she was there?" 

"Yes, to fish at me like she was up to something. She still broke into my room." 

"She's a Wayfinder. They do that. It's apparently how they say hi." Gyrgan stared off into the distance. "I've had her wake me up in the middle of the night in my room to drop off a fruit basket. I hadn’t even known she was in the system at the time." 

It still wasn't comforting. In different circumstances he could've commiserated about Alfor, but there was a difference; Alfor was sneaking in because of political tensions to chat and get away from everything, while Trigel was from an allied civilization, could've just walked up to him normally, and had been very pointedly there with a political agenda. "I would rather she seek me out to talk like a normal person." 

Gyrgan half-nodded, although it seemed like a partial concession. "She was probably just trying to get out of the public circus. It's a little hard to talk without getting overheard out in the bigger common rooms, and uh. Your father's...." Gyrgan set his jaw at an angle with an earflick. "Well, she probably wanted to avoid him outside of diplomatic politics." 

"I am well aware of my father's.... _personable charm_." He drew the words out, keeping the frustrated distaste mostly quiet, if still definitely there.

Gyrgan raised a hand, rolling it in the air in acknowledgment. "Well, there you go. I'm not saying her idea of how to get around that isn't eccentric, but that's probably all it was." 

"And the fishing and prodding like a bad serial drama spy?" He knew he should've been more careful with his words, but Gyrgan had already skirted being impolitic that he could probably get away with it. He hoped.

"She's always sketchy and up to something. It's just not anything sinister unless you're a threat or you've done something to piss her off, and even then, if she's just being pissy it'll just be petty and dumb." He paused. "I already had to talk her out of sneaking Falgorian hagfish into the room of one of the Nalquodians after he annoyed her." 

Zarkon stifled the bark of a laugh a little too late, almost doubling over in his failure to hide it. There was a brief, passing thousand yard stare of dread as Gyrgan considered Zarkon's reaction to one of Trigel's Worse Ideas and that Trigel was seeking out the Galra prince.

It didn't exactly help Zarkon's suspicions, although he was considering the situation; he didn't know where Gyrgan stood. The Rygnirathi were allied with both Daibazaal and the Dantalion Belt; the Galra and the Dantalion maintaining a good relationship would benefit them, but that was the only major stake he could think of. It was possible Trigel had put Gyrgan up to this, but it would be hard to tell without time to get a better idea of the situation and the people involved. 

If Gyrgan was being honest, Trigel might be a good ally to have, but he wasn't about to commit on just that.

His trailing off into thought was interrupted by the door opening fast and sharply, the intruder bursting in at enough of a sprint to need a few feet to manage to stop.

His only direct experience with the Nalquodians had been a decaphoeb or so previous, an attempt at catching his father off guard at an outlying transit hub station that had failed, but been a dangerously close brush for how close they'd managed to get. Zarkon wasn't exactly afraid of them - he'd defended himself before well enough - but it made for a sharp reflex response to one of them suddenly within potential weapon's reach, and he was on his feet with a snarl and his claws out.

The - younger? - man was unarmed, and blinking at him, leaning away as if considering which was the worse thing to run from, whatever was behind him or the startled Galra in front of him. 

Peace conference. It was a peace conference, he'd seen this one before around the conference, none of their delegation would be stupid enough to start a fight here. 

Even if he did recognize some of the patterns and charms the Nalquodian was wearing as markers of military special forces.

There was a short panicked glance back, and another moment of gauging Zarkon and Gyrgan, who had startled but not even gotten up from the couch.

"Just - _please don't tell her I'm here!_ " With that, he dove for the other side of the large couch, barely skirting around Zarkon. 

Gyrgan sighed heavily and then settled back on the couch where he'd been; Zarkon stared at him, and craned up to catch a glimpse of blue flattened against the back of the couch. He was still standing with one foot on the couch, unsure what to make of the situation at all, when the door opened again.

Trigel stopped neatly in the door, scanning the room. Gyrgan shrugged, and she turned her attention to Zarkon.

Zarkon blinked widely and straightened, trying to play off his lingering agitation. 

Trigel's eyes narrowed, and she went from the door to perched on the back of the couch in a fluid moment. 

There was a thin, high-pitched squeak from behind the couch, and the Nalquodian scrambled back to flatten against the wall in the corner, away from the half-his-size Wayfinder.

" _It was an accident I swear!_ "

Trigel stayed perching on the couch, but Zarkon suspected the only reason she stayed there rather than further cornering her target was that she could straighten somewhat and be on eye level with him, rather than glaring up from somewhere just below the Nalquodian's collarbone. 

"Really. An _accident_." She was hissing, sarcastic, and entirely unconvinced. "How exactly did you manage to make _that_ an accident?!" 

"I didn't even know you were there! I meant to grab the guy on the other side of you!" He was almost flailing trying to mime out the scenario in a way that made very little sense, then froze and shrank in again at the quiet thin, faint angry whistle from Trigel. 

"And you didn't look at what you were doing at _all_?" 

Gyrgan stood up with a sigh, putting a hand on Trigel's shoulder. "Alright, maybe we should all just calm down for a minute to figure out what went on before we start a fight and get in trouble with our hosts here." 

Trigel glared at Gyrgan, but didn't move to pull away or attempt violence, and the Nalquodian nodded emphatically in agreement after it sank in what Gyrgan was suggesting, fins still drooped almost flat. 

Zarkon took a half-step back and away from the couch.

Gyrgan turned to Trigel first. "Okay. Why are you after Blaytz this time?" 

The name was familiar, but disbelief kept it from fully sinking in until after her explanation was finished.

"I was halfway across the compound, minding my own business when this - _oaf_ came barreling around the corner, picked me up, and tried to walk off with me!" Her attention was at least more on Gyrgan, although she was pointing angrily at Blaytz, who flinched every time.

Blaytz, who'd ended up with a field promotion in Nalquod's special forces.

Blaytz, who'd routed an entire Galran battalion with a group of barely twenty of them and a few misdirections with light artillery, and won a couple other outnumbered and outgunned victories.

Gyrgan turned his attention to Blaytz, removing his hand from Trigel's shoulder in apparent trust that she wouldn't move while he wasn't look at her. "Alright, your turn. What happened?"

"Weelll, I was on my way to meet up with someone, and I'd heard him in that hallway already. It was pretty quiet in that area and there haven't usually been many people around there, so I wasn't expecting someone else to be that close by, aaand I thought whoever was walking by the door had to be him. I kind of didn't look until I realized he was standing there staring at me like I'd just kicked a sleeping vanthrax, aaaand then I looked down and realized it was worse than that, so I uh." He looked at Trigel, ducking his head. "Dropped her and ran." 

Gyrgan looked between both of them tiredly. Blaytz was staring at him as if pleading. Trigel was glaring at Blaytz, eyes narrowed. 

One of the most feared new special forces on the other side of his father's war was apparently an idiot, cowering against the wall away from someone a third his size, and if Gyrgan's 'this time' was anything to go by, this wasn't even the first time it'd happened. 

"And of course, it has nothing to do with you trying to hit on me _yesterday_." Trigel was venomously sarcastic, and Zarkon felt like he was starting to grasp why Blaytz was terrified.

Blaytz raised both hands, flattening back into the wall again. "I already apologized for that! I didn't know half of that was insulting, and I'm never going to do it again!" 

Gyrgan was just staring off into the middle distance. "Okay. So you're an idiot." He motioned between them. "And you're terrified of her, yes?" 

Blaytz barely took his eyes off Trigel to nod.

"Trigel, is him being dumb really worth potentially getting your entire delegation in trouble?"

There was silence as Trigel was glaring at Blaytz.

Gyrgan cleared his throat with a louder, low sound. 

Trigel's ears angled back, and she did take her eyes off Blaytz, just enough to look sideways at Gyrgan. 

"Fine. I won't do anything to cause this moron any harm." She slid back easily, twisting to sit in the middle of the couch.

Gyrgan gave her an unconvinced frown. 

The doors to the room opened again, and one of the Alteans made it two steps in before stopping, taking in the scene, looking twice at Trigel and Zarkon, then straightening in an attempt at decorum - Zarkon was having a hard time placing the young man, besides that he was wearing a dress uniform for a military cadet. Blaytz had perked up visibly at his entrance, like someone drifting seeing a rescue ship. 

"Sorry to interrupt, I just came here to collect an idiot."

"Jalis! You came here to save me!" 

That left Zarkon trying to connect several hundred ridiculous stories and rants about Alfor's cousin to the trim, neat figure in the door, in an inverse to the earlier revelation about Blaytz's identity. 

Gyrgan gave Trigel a warning look, but she was leaning back on the couch, eyes closed, imperiously ignoring everyone; he shook his head and waved for Blaytz to go to the door. Blaytz still skirted the long way around the room, keeping as much distance between himself and the couch as he could before wrapping around the smaller Altean.

Jalis weathered this with a passing grimace, clearing his throat to prompt Blaytz to let go of him, at which point Blaytz ducked behind him, very pointedly keeping Jalis between himself and Trigel. 

Jalis excused the both of them quietly, herding Blaytz out in a hurry, and Zarkon stared after them, somehow unsure what had just happened despite having at least part of it explained. 

He snapped out of it when Gyrgan finally turned from the door himself to address Trigel.

"Where are you even going to _get_ Falgorian hagfish here?!" 

Trigel just smiled, cold and calculating, and steepled her fingertips together. "I have my ways." 

Gyrgan groaned, and buried his face in his hands. 

Zarkon was increasingly afraid to ask.


	2. This Ain't A Scene, It's A Goddamn Arms Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coran and Alfor both have to face their families, which might not go quite as they expect.
> 
> Of course, there's only so much room for drama around Trigel's penchant for petty revenge, and the politics aren't nearly as far away as Alfor would like....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that we have a canon name for Allura's mother I am. Probably going to end up going back through and editing Pray That There's Intelligent Life and the previous chapter here to use her canon name for consistency and to minimize confusion. ON WHICH NOTE, yes I am switching to using her canon name this chapter.

The bay the Castle had docked at was a chaotic hub of activity. Much of the giant capital ship’s crew wasn’t involved in the conference and was merely getting a chance at shore leave once everything was settled, between the actual delegation disembarking and the quartermaster handling any needed resupply and logistics. 

Coran was obligated to make an attempt at meeting his Grandfather coming off the ship, but he stayed back, quietly hoping he’d get forgotten in the chaos. Alfor had resigned himself to fate, already breaking off to find the Queen and get his own obligations over with. 

It almost seemed for a few doboshes that he might get away with it, too, as his Grandfather was juggling being involved in both arrangements, but just when he was about to say he’d tried and slink off, his Grandfather clearly scanned to find him and broke off.

“Coran! There you are!”

Coran had parked in a makeshift alcove created by some of the giant storage crates that littered the hangar bays, a quieter refuge that still allowed a view of the hangar. His Grandfather stopped just inside the alcove, shifting his weight and propping one foot off the ground, rubbing the back of his head. “So it sounds like I do need to have a talk with you.” 

Coran looked away with a quiet noise.

His Grandfather sighed. “I know we haven’t been getting on that well for a while.” 

“You think?” Coran rolled his eyes. 

There was another uncomfortable shift of weight from his grandfather, looking away. “Well. I suppose it says something when Leander thinks I’m possibly being too hard on you.” 

It took Coran a few ticks to process that. “…You’re kidding right?” 

His grandfather just looked up, staring off. “No, no I’m not.” 

It occurred to Coran that Alfor avoided talking about his father enough that he didn’t have much of a concept of Leander outside of brief encounters and times in passing around his Grandfather and his parents before that, but there wasn’t anything in that or the King’s reputation to suggest that the man knew what it meant to not be pushing for perfection as a permanent state. 

He wasn’t even sure how to respond to that attached to his Grandfather acting weirdly sheepish; in fact, the only other time he could remember seeing his Grandfather be anything less than a force of unrelenting flamboyant confidence was right after his parents had died, when there had been a few phoebs of being subdued and withdrawn before the man had rebounded with a vengeance. 

“I know you might not believe this, but I do worry about you, and…. Well, I think after what happened, I got so caught up in wanting to make sure you could handle what you’d be growing up into when you got older that I might’ve forgotten you were still a child.” 

Coran blinked a few times. It should be a good thing, but somehow felt like it couldn’t be real; like it was too easy and there was some kind of catch. 

The awkward silence wore on for a few ticks. 

“…Look, I - think I made things worse, and… well, I can’t ask you to just forget all of it. I’m sure you’re still mad at me about all of it.” His grandfather shifted weight again. 

Mad was certainly part of it, but the rest of it was a mess of different things Coran suddenly had no idea how to detangle enough to put words to; he made a noise of confusion and shrugged. 

There was the surreal little realization in the confusion that, as determined as he’d been to get away from everything, suddenly not having to fight with his grandfather was a relief he was afraid wouldn’t last. 

His grandfather took a deep breath. "Well, I'll try to go easier on you about it, at least. It sounds like you're not doing so badly away from everything, anyway, so... maybe I was worrying too much to begin with." 

Coran nodded, knowing better than to say anything about half of what they'd gotten into, not even counting the part where they snuck into Dalterion territory and had an altercation with the Wayfinder Commander's apprentice. 

The awkward silence drug on for several long ticks and a few quiet shuffles of discomfort. 

"...I really should be getting back to Alfor." Coran gestured at the door. "It's been a while, and you know, he's - Alfor." As frustrating as Alfor could be, Coran found himself not wanting to complain at all; not to his Grandfather, who was often around Alfor's father, not when he knew Alfor was going through even more high expectations and harsh standards than he was. 

It got a wistful smile. "Go on, then. He needs someone that understands." 

***********************************

 

Alfor had known better than to avoid his mother. It hadn’t been that dramatic of an encounter, either; he had an easier time getting along with her than his father. 

It was part of the problem. Even if she’d get exasperated with some of his shenanigans, she also was prone to reminding him that he was the prince, how much his family had accomplished over the generations, and kept being sure he was going to do something, somehow, he just needed to ‘accept his own power and talents’ and ‘try to be more responsible’. 

She didn’t have any dramatic stories about her accomplishments like how his father had struck back after his grandfather’s death and convinced the Galra not to join the war alongside their Dalterion allies when he’d been around Alfor’s age, or personally taken command from the front lines in the early days of the war. It made what she’d done all the more daunting.

She’d restructured the power structure between the Altean homeworld and offworld colonies to better allow the colonies ability to respond to local conditions and make independent decisions while still maintaining basic ground laws for civil rights, education, and public safety. She’d been heavily involved in improving openings for citizenship of non-Altean residents of Altean territories, been called in to negotiate out and make rulings on more than one legal dispute, and had otherwise ensured a place in the records on the less dramatic side of history, the one that was more important in the long run than wars and conflicts. 

Alfor wasn’t sure how he was expected to live up to either of his parents. He wasn’t sure he wanted to live up to his father, and was terrified that he couldn’t live up to his mother. 

It’d been the usual, really, tired patience and him getting gently fussed at while she occasionally shot him looks like she was sure he was leaving things out but wasn’t calling him on it; he was fine, his classes were going well, he was top of most of his classes, he was getting along well with Coran, no he was serious he really was getting along well with Coran, he had found good friends and studiously avoided mentioning the Unilu smugglers and a few of the other sketchier sorts. 

He was reminded to keep in touch, and knew he should at least call her more often. 

When he got away, he was fast to scramble out of the hangar before any of the other staff and less direct relatives that might be around could spot him. 

They met up somewhere in the hallways on the way back to the common areas; neither of them really felt up to people so much, but it was something to distract from going back to their room where it was quiet and they'd have to maybe end up thinking about or dealing with things. 

Jalis was also in the hallways, stalking about agitated and concerned enough to be worrying even if neither of them had a clue what was going on. Alfor was the first to step forward, waving to get his cousin's attention.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Jalis half-snapped. "...No. _I'm_ fine." The emphasis in that clarification was clearly on Jalis, himself. 

Alfor and Coran shared a look before the Prince raised an eyebrow. "But?" 

Jalis shifted, shrinking in. "...So something _stupid_ happened last night, and I haven't seen Blaytz this morning." 

Alfor frowned. "He's already decorated from field combat; I can't imagine anything that bad would happen here." 

"How stupid are we talking?", Coran asked. Coran already had a feeling he was going to be deeply unimpressed with the answer.

Jalis stared at both of them, half-glaring, half-resigned. "He tried to prank me and caught the Wayfinder Commander's apprentice instead. She didn't take it well." 

Both of them winced, and Alfor was no longer skeptical about worrying over Blaytz. 

"I saw him back to his room last night, and he was fine when I left, but..."

Alfor couldn't even bring himself to say anything sarcastic about Jalis's phrasing; sure, he had ammunition for the next time Jalis tried to razz him about his own flirting, but Trigel was both one of the few people around capable of being a threat to Blaytz and one of the few that might be able to get away with it here. "Have you asked the rest of his delegation?" It was the best idea Alfor could offer; none of the delegations were big enough for someone to go missing for too long unnoticed, and if something else had happened, they'd be the first to know. 

Jalis paused, grimacing with a faint noise, glaring a hole in the wall to the side of them. 

Alfor was as bewildered as Coran; the Nalquodans were the last people there that'd lapse into gossip or treat an occasional affair as a mark on someone's reputation. He'd noticed some exasperation with Blaytz but it was all centered around Blaytz being at least as bad as Alfor was about flirting with the other side of the war and random unknowns; Jalis was probably a relief just for being someone unlikely to try to kill him, and Jalis being willing to back Blaytz up and worry about his safety would've only reinforced that. 

Either Jalis was that self-conscious, or there was something else he was avoiding. Alfor had the strange suspicion Blaytz had been involved in whatever had given the Wayfinder Commander dirt on his cousin; Jalis was usually more aggressive in defense of his pride than that. 

"Alright, I'll ask them." It wasn't like it'd seem that weird; he was known to many of them, too, and had been hanging around Blaytz off and on himself. 

He turned and headed off to find any of the other Nalquodans he recognized, Coran following and Jalis trailing behind. Jalis was trying not to act like he wanted to skulk off, and wasn't incredibly good at it. 

The first one he found in their age range was an aide and apprentice to one of their older diplomats; safer to ask when there was something like that going on than one of the older ones, if they might need to save Blaytz without wrecking the entire point of the peace conference and causing a Major Incident. Blaytz was noticeably taller than any of the Alteans, but she towered over them a good head and a half, a wall of green-grey patterned hide and loose colored clothing with carved bone and shell charms mixed with bits of glass and metal ones from a range of different civilizations. 

The amount of long-suffering tired in her expression as she looked down at the three of them was astonishing. Whatever had happened couldn't have been that bad; there wasn't enough alarm for any real injury. 

"Excuse me, Lady Dalqe?" He ducked his head in some attempt at courtesy without going full formality. "I was just wondering if you'd heard from Blaytz this morning; I haven't seen him yet and it's a little unusual for him to sleep in like this." 

She rolled her eyes, antennae twitching. "The idiot's fine, he's just going through multiple showers and whining a lot. Someone put Falgorian hagfish in his pool while he was asleep; after a while the gunk buildup woke him up in the middle of the night, and his screaming the rest of us up. Last I heard he was _still_ trying to get the slime off." 

Jalis's sigh of relief was audible, his attempt at playing it off failing miserably. 

Dalqe just stared off into the middle distance for a moment. "Whatever it was, I don't want to know." She shifted uncomfortably with a couple quiet, subverbal clicks. "It wasn't one of us, and knowing him, whatever he did, he earned it." 

Alfor couldn't argue with that, although now he was a little surprised Trigel hadn't done something petty like that to him yet; Jalis opened his mouth to argue, then shrank in a sulk with his arms folded.

Dalqe looked straight at Jalis. "Like I said, I don't. Want. To know." 

"Understandable. Have a good day." Alfor took a step back, arm out to herd Jalis; Coran didn't need any prompting to walk away from that one. None of them said anything until they'd gotten around a corner and off to find some small little sitting room where they wouldn't be overheard. 

Jalis was still agitated enough to be pacing a little; Alfor flopped out over the couch, and Coran took the corner Alfor wasn't covering.

Finally, Jalis turned to stare at Alfor, shoulders hunched and eyes narrowed. "How are _you_ so calm about this?"

"If she'd meant to do any damage, she would've." Alfor shrugged. "They know the limits of what they can get away with here without getting themselves in trouble, and even if the High Commander's tested those herself, I doubt she'd let Trigel do anything that'd damage their position in the trade routes." He paused. "I'm just surprised she hit him before me." 

He didn't quite count ratting him out to her mentor and setting him up to get cornered and terrorized over it as 'revenge' for tossing her into a wall and then hitting on her without realizing who it was. 

Jalis raised an eyebrow. "Why would she go after you?"

Alfor gave Jalis a dry look. "Why didn't you want to talk to the Nalquodian delegation yourself?" 

Jalis grimaced with a quiet growl, and looked away in a huff. 

It was an impasse, but it was one where Jalis wasn't asking about their stunt sneaking into Dalterion territory. It also meant he was never going to find out what the Hell Jalis had gotten into that the High Commander was using for blackmail material, although he suspected now that Blaytz had been involved as well. 

Jalis had gotten quiet after a minute, giving him more of a strange, suspicious look. "How are you so sure they wouldn't try to pull an assassination or something and just cover their tracks?"

His first instinct was that he hadn't gotten the impression that Trigel was the sort to lash out that harshly on spite and pettiness, but he knew that wouldn't fly and he'd need to actually think it through more. "Well, if they did, there wouldn't be many suspects. We're allies with Nalquod, we're off the table. Rygnirath is neutral to them and has been very vocal about not wanting to get drug into the middle of the wars even if they're on good terms with the Dalterion and Galra. The Galra would be prime suspects since they _are_ at war with Nalquod, but King Veklor's ... kind of volatile and self-absorbed and would probably react badly if they tried to frame him or his people for it. It might be possible to make it look like some outside party trying to agitate, but that'd be _really_ flimsy, and the Kraxi have a lot of influence in the trade lanes." 

Jalis tilted his head, a few times looking like he was about argue, then finally nodded with an irritable frown and a further squint at Alfor. “So you _do_ pay attention.”

Alfor grinned with a nervous laugh; some of it was paying attention, but some of it was having heard plenty about Zarkon’s father over the years. "Well, you know, people talk? He's got a bit of a reputation among the Galra."

It wasn't a lie, exactly.

Jalis raised an eyebrow. "Here I thought it'd looked like you were getting shot down by all of them here."

"Here, yes." Alfor gave a faint snort, and Coran rolled his eyes, but stayed quiet. "There's a few back at the university I've been getting along fine with."

"Getting along with, or 'getting along with'?" Jalis punctuated it with a skeptical look.

Alfor coughed lightly, looking away. "Does it really matter? It's not like you can talk anymore."

"That's different. We're allies with Nalquod, and I actually new Blaytz before anything of the sort came up!" Jalis paused, then muttered, "Besides, he started it." He didn't give Alfor time for more than the growing expression of barbed amusement. "It's not like I've been hitting on everyone possible short of the Wayfinder Commander's apprentice, like some people."

Coran coughed at Jalis's pointed look, shooting Alfor one of his own. Alfor looked to the ceiling in poorly feigned innocence.

"…Really, Alfor? Really?"

Alfor shifted sitting slightly more upright in the couch. "It was actually going well for a while!"

Jalis was highly unimpressed. "She strung you along far enough to get in some kind of shot she could get away with, didn't she."

"No, she actually seemed genuinely entertained before - something went wrong." Alfor caught himself mid-sentence, shifting into a sulk.

"…Something."

Alfor glared at him. "So what was High Commander Falkir questioning you about again?"

Jalis winced, shoulders hunching in his own sulk.

"Anyway, King Veklor has a reputation, and neither the Dalterion nor the Galra can afford to screw this up - there's too many other trade partners they can't afford to lose that'd get nervous at best if they breached treaty agreements and terms like that. Trigel's not going to do anything dangerous here, and if she did blow this over something petty, her own High Commander would probably beat anyone else to cracking down on her for it." Sabotaging Blaytz's sleeping pool in a way that was miserable and uncomfortable, but not dangerous, was pushing the envelope as it was on what kind of harassment she could get away with, and even that depended on the Nalquodian delegation being tolerant enough to not pursue complaints over it. 

"That's only going to hold while we're all here at the conference." 

It was a valid worry, and one Alfor had been trying to not think about too hard. "I don't think Blaytz accidentally tweaking her dignity is going to be her top priority." Sneaking into their territory and bouncing her off a wall was far more likely to be something she'd pursue. "And besides, I'm sure he can take care of himself; he's already been a scourge to the Galra, after all." 

It was another thing Alfor didn't want to think too hard about, even if he was using it as an offhand way to try to settle Jalis's nerves about it. Alfor hadn't had time to know him very well, but he already liked Blaytz; the Nalquodan was hypercompetent, sure, but was far more relaxed and good-humored than most people around that kind of rank and with that kind of responsibility, enough that it was easy to forget that he was already feared on the battlefield.

And the other side of that battlefield was Zarkon's people. At this point, Zarkon was still building up his confidence for it and being cautious, but it was only a matter of time until the Galra Prince challenged his father over his abuses of the throne. They tried to avoid politics when they met, but it was increasingly difficult to do, and Zarkon had already indicated that if he did manage to defeat his father, he did plan on seeing things all the way through and pursuing the Kral Zera - "The only way to be sure that one of his cronies doesn't just keep the status quo", Zarkon had said. 

Alfor hated being in the position of knowing that, if he and two of his friends were in the same room, they'd be at best hostile to each other and possibly fighting. It was part of what he hated about his position and inheritance; he didn't want to be stuck with the wars and politics being his entire life, needing to always worry about who was around who and whose people were killing each other. He was happier on the university campus, where it was distant background noise and he could go for days tuning it out and just getting to deal with _people_.

Jalis grumbled with a faint growling edge to it, and almost said something two or three times without actually committing to whatever it was. The awkward became weird calculating paranoia. "...So how likely do you think you are to be on her target list, if she does start pursuing things after this?"

Alfor froze and a little bit of a nervous laugh escaped even with him trying to stifle it, and Coran actually winced with a small whine.

Jalis slumped with a frustrated sigh. "We're all going to die." 

********************************************

Trigel was smug that morning.

It was giving Gyrgan a headache to be aware of, particularly when the Nalquodian delegation had a noticeable absence they were deflecting questions about with quiet exasperation. He had some idea of what she was capable of and how long it took her to pull together a scheme from more experience than he wanted to have. There were only a couple more quintents in the conference, and if she'd been starting this one from scratch, that should've meant she'd have been getting it in right under the wire, if she managed to pull it together at all, even with whatever black market contacts and under the table trade she could tap into there.

She must've had it already in motion when he'd talked her out of it before, and just sat on it; he'd lay good money that, even if Blaytz hadn't managed to find a way to piss her off again, he still would've woken up to hag-eels in his sleeping pool late in the conference anyway.

Actually the more he thought about it, the more sure he was there was more to it than she'd told him. Falgorian hag-eels were restricted in that part of space; they had some uses as living disposals for certain kinds of waste that would've been difficult to safely get rid of, but they were incredibly awful nuisances otherwise. They also weren't something that had enough value to be common black market commodities; the demographics of the station were all wrong for her to be able to find some sketchy merchant that would just happen to have a tank of them around for sale.

So it had to've been a special order, arranged ahead of time, probably en route to the conference at the latest.

He wasn't surprised by Trigel's capacity for commitment to stupid petty pranks. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her go through ridiculous shenanigans scheming something dumb like that; he was almost certain she was more creative, driven, and vindictive about idiotic pointless revenge plots than she was about her own missions. He had resigned himself decapheobs ago to dealing with her passion for being utterly megalomaniacal about pranks.

No, the problem here was that he'd _thought_ Trigel had only just met Blaytz at the beginning of the conference, and that her ire had started with the Nalquodan managing to devour his own feet in a doomed flirting attempt that accidentally facerolled about five different culturally-specific insults the poor fool had no way of knowing about beforehand. He had thought that she was over-reacting to it, even by her standards, and now he was even more suspicious. 

When Blaytz finally slunk into the banquet room for breakfast, he was moving stiffly and uncomfortably, still itching. High Commander Falkir had been regarding the Nalquodan delegation and Blaytz’s visible absence with an increasingly stumped expression, then when he arrived, she’d turned to look at Trigel in a brief moment of exasperated resignation before she began acting as if nothing had happened. 

Gyrgan wasn’t sure if ‘High Commander Falkir did not know Trigel was plotting this’ was a consolation, or something to inspire more of a deep-rooted sense of dread.

He edged over the first time there was an opening, when she'd ducked out for a minute and was in a quiet hallway.

"...Okay Trigel, what the fuck." 

She blinked blithely. "I told you I was going for the hag-eels." 

Gyrgan rolled his eyes with a low frustrated noise. "I checked the regs on those, and their relative value on the black market. There's no way you could've gotten them here if you only started looking for them after That Thing." 

One of her ears twitched. She otherwise looked very convincingly like she was unsure what was going on. 

" _How_ did he manage to piss you off _without knowing you_ before this started?" 

"That's classified." She hadn't even missed a beat.

He gave the dullest, dryest stare he could. "You expect me to believe you'd resort to hag-eels in a sleeping pool over something classified and actually important." 

"You'd be surprised how many stupid things manage to also be classified." She paused. "For reasons." 

"You've got to be kidding me." 

"High Commander's orders on this one; it's all on need to know basis." She reached up to put a hand on Gyrgan's shoulder. "And as much as I might like you, you're not someone who needs to know." 

He closed his eyes, wrinkling his nose. "At least tell me that's the _only_ dumbass revenge plot you've got going here?"

She didn't answer, but she had the sincere, guileless expression that he knew meant nothing good.

****************************

There were a good couple vargas where the Alteans were staying mostly with Blaytz, Alfor trying to figure out if he could find anything without leaving the compound that might help with any lingering irritation while Jalis was maintaining a mix of distressed fussing and trying to protectively loom.

The looming part was mixed in its impact, considering Jalis was maintaining his normal height, noticeably shorter than the person he was trying to loom around. 

After a varga or two, Coran was beginning to suspect Blaytz was being more melodramatic than was actually warranted. It was little things; pauses where he lapsed and then visibly remembered he was supposed to be Suffering for one, and Coran was starting to piece together little body language and expression cues enough to realize that the other Nalquodans - who had seemed perfectly fond of Blaytz - were ...

Unimpressed, and incredibly dubious. 

He was debating if he should say anything, and whether or not he was being paranoid, when Blaytz actually noticed Coran's increasingly skeptical look, and picked up a visible nervous edge.

Blaytz was dragging it out for the attention.

It wasn't anything horribly serious, but Coran was still a little irked on Alfor and Jalis's behalf. He wasn't sure if Alfor had caught any clues or was just too caught up in having a Problem to Solve to have noticed. Jalis seemed suspicious occasionally, at least, but Jalis also was more interested in his protective looming, which was fair enough after a point - Blaytz might be feeling better than he was letting on, but that didn't change that Trigel had gotten into his room and messed with his sleeping space. 

The Wayfinder apprentice in question was present, and mostly acting like nothing had happened, but Coran did catch smug glances their direction here and there, when Blaytz and Alfor weren't looking. Jalis apparently caught one of them, if the faint growl Coran thought he heard was any indication.

It did give Coran an idea.

He sidled over closer by Blaytz at a point when Alfor had flitted off to grab food. 

"She seems to be having a good day." It was a dry, offhand comment, punctuated with jerking his head toward Trigel.

Blaytz looked up. Trigel glanced over at the change in movement and attention.

And, for a brief moment where she clearly knew she had Blaytz's attention, she puffed up, all but preening.

It vanished fast - the Rygnirathi she'd been hanging around turned around, and she did seem to be trying to avoid doing anything visible when he was looking. Coran definitely was going to have to see if he could send some kind of flowers or gift later - the relative politics meant Altea's relationship with Rygnirath was one of distant antipathy, but there weren't outright hostilities thanks to Rygnirath wanting to not be involved in the wars unless absolutely necessary, and whoever he was, he was apparently at least trying to keep Trigel's terrorizing in check.

It had definitely interrupted Blaytz's melodrama; he had his eyes narrowed at the Wayfinder, antennae twitching forward, jaw set. 

Jalis had missed the moment with Trigel, which just made Blaytz's shift all the more concerning, and he edged over. "Is something wrong?"

Blaytz's attention stayed on Trigel, tempered with stubborn spite. ".....Well, nothing new, but you know... I'm feeling a whole lot better suddenly." 

It was a victory Coran could accept.

****************************************  
The rest of the day passed in a blur of distractions; not only did Blaytz decide he was feeling better, but now that he had spiting Trigel as a motivator, Coran suspected he'd pushed it a little too hard a few times. It left him with a sense of dread at the way Blaytz and Alfor were getting along; he really didn't need two stubborn dramatic idiots to worry about, nevermind that there was no telling what horrible ideas they'd come up with together.

Alfor's attention strayed to some of the others he'd been chatting with, and Coran tagged along as he peeled off. The prince was doing less flirting than he'd been worried about; there was a saving grace that Alfor was incredibly easily distracted by other curiosity, which meant that he could forget he was flirting in favor of asking questions and listening to some of the others present talk about their home territories and planets and holidays and festivals. 

And Alfor wasn't trying to peel off again to disappear to who only knew where, although Coran was expecting to deal with another disappearance to the Galra areas before the conference was over - he knew Alfor too well to think Alfor would resist the temptation for another visit before they went back to the university. 

The evening passed without further incident. In fact, it was quiet enough that Coran was feeling suspicious and jumpy by the time they got back to their room, and he noticed Alfor glancing around occasionally, betraying nerves even if he was trying to play at being fine with everything. 

It continued until they got into the room, the door closing behind them. When there was no immediate horrible surprise after a couple ticks, they both slumped with sighs of relief.

Then the ceiling exploded with a high whistle and loud pop.

Both of them hit the ground, Alfor tackling Coran and pinning him to the floor. There were a few panicky ticks before it sank in that not only were they both not dead, neither of them were actually hurt; it'd gone off harmlessly to everything except their dignity.

Alfor was the first one to hazard opening his eyes to look around; he froze in the middle of getting off Coran, and Coran heard a very distinct, quiet, "...Oh, quiznak," followed by a grumbled, "Well played." 

Coran cracked an eyelid.

The entire room was covered in iridescent sparkles, a powder burst radiating out from a spot in the ceiling.

So were both of them.

It was a very familiar sort of glittery rainbow sheen.

"...Did..." Coran squinted at his hand. "Did she booby-trap our room with Thirocax powder?"

"Yep." Alfor sat up fully, to flop cross-legged next to Coran, shoulders hunched and jaw set sideways in a full sulk; the multicolored powder showed up especially vibrantly on his white hair, almost seeming to glow. 

"...It's going to take half a phoeb to get all of this out of the walls, isn't it."

"Yep." Alfor hadn't moved.

"...How are we going to explain this to the Kraxi?"

Alfor's sulk deepened. "The same way I'm sure Blaytz explained the Falgorian hag-eels clogging up the water system in his room." 

Coran stared off into the middle distance at the walls. "...We have no idea how it happened but it sure did happen?"

" _Yep._ "

They were shaking off the initial shock to go through the likely-useless ritual of showers when there was a howling shriek from down the hallway; reflex carried Alfor out the door and into the hall before he'd even properly registered that it was Jalis. The door opened as they reached it, Alfor running into Jalis on his way out in just as much of a hurry; both Alteans went down hard in a chaotic tangle of limbs, and Coran narrowly managed to stop fast enough to avoid tripping over them and joining them.

A sharp, acrid smell wafted out of the room, and Jalis was as intent on getting out of the doorway so it'd close as he was detangling from Alfor. Alfor wrinkled his nose at it, pulling a face, while Jalis was gagging with a thin whine, showing claws and fangs that weren't usually there. 

He did not seem to have even noticed yet that his collision with Alfor had led to both him and the floor getting coated with a thin layer of Thirocax powder.

It took Alfor a bit to start actually working on disentangling, flat on the ground and stuck in confused worry. "Are...you alright?"

" _No,_ " Jalis spat out, squirming off to sit on the floor away from the closing door.

"What _was_ that?", Coran asked, staring at the door narrowly. 

"I don' know, it-," Jalis stopped, wrinkling his nose again, the way his head had gone stuffy audible, "'s some kind of powder..."

Alfor squinted at the door. "That...smells like breen?"

Both of the others stared at him, as running footsteps were converging from the rest of the Altean upper rank quarters.

"It's - a dried and powdered root from an outer planet? A few species use it in cooking..." Alfor thought hard. "I - oh."

Jalis glared at him for an answer.

"...Er. It's an irritant to Davdabhau." 

Jalis groaned, flopping back to sprawl on the floor; he was a couple generations down and only around a quarter total, but apparently he'd inherited enough to be affected.

Before anything else could be said, they were converged on by pretty much every Altean in that area; Melenor, Alfor's parents, Coran's grandfather, and Jalis's mother pulled in front, a couple of the royal guard also hovering, with everyone deferring to them on this one.

There was an awkward pause as the gathered delegation was clearly processing that the three boys were unharmed and that there was no severe damage anywhere - unless a trail of exceptionally persistent iridescent glitter and some lingering bitter smell counted.

Coran could almost read the train of thought going around the hallway. None of it was dangerous, it was definitely stupid pranks, it wouldn't have been too big a surprise if it'd been Alfor and Jalis aiming at each other, neither of them seemed to have an idea what was going on.

The Queen was the one to finally break the silence, as befuddled as anyone else there. "...What _happened?_ "

Jalis, Coran, and Alfor all shared a moment of silent panic, staring at each other, before Alfor looked up... and shrugged. 

"...You don't know." She looked to Jalis, who had both hands over his nose; Jalis shrank, looking up uncertainly, and shrugged as well. "....Coran?"

Coran flinched, and shook his head. "Not a single clue!"

The Queen was far from the only one that was giving them some shade of frustrated, unamused look.

"None of you know what just happened or who set this up."

"Nope." Alfor sounded like he'd never had a clue in his life.

She looked between the three of them in another sweep, but found the same unusual solidarity between all three of them.

She shared a despairing look with the King, and finally just sighed, shaking her head. "Contact the Kraxi; we'll need to apologize to them for this and see what we can offer to help clean this up." 

Jalis looked back at his room door with another whine.

"...I'm sure we can get a cot, you can stay in our room until it's cleared," Alfor offered.

Jalis nodded, and the part of the delegation that knew them better had a wave of confused quiet alarm.

Melenor dispersed with the rest of the delegation at first, then doubled back, catching them at the door to Alfor and Coran's room. The three of them shared an awkward freeze, all sensing danger.

She stared at the three of them, glittery and disheveled, in very clear consternation.

"You know nobody believes you about not knowing anything about this, right?"

Jalis shrank, and Alfor and Coran looked to each other, Coran nodding to Alfor.

"It doesn't really matter if anyone believes us, as long as they're _not asking_." 

She gave Alfor's pointed look an unimpressed raised eyebrow. "I know this wasn't anyone in our delegation; you three are the only ones who'd go to the lengths to come up with this sort of thing for something stupid." She motioned at the iridescent sheen coating all three of them, Coran and Alfor the worst. "Who did you manage to piss off?"

There was a silence of solidarity for a good couple ticks.

"We would _all_ rather not say," Coran finally said, putting words to it. 

She grew more suspicious. "...It wasn't someone from a friendly delegation, was it."

It wasn't incredibly difficult; the only truly friendly homeworld represented was Nalquod. They were at open war with the Dalterion Belt, had been in and out of a cold war with Daibazaal, which made the distant neutrality with Rygnirath a blessing. 

"The three of you haven't even been in the same place that often - how did all three of you manage to get on the bad side of the same person?"

There was further long suffering silence, and Alfor did not like the way she'd narrowed her eyes in thought. 

"...Is this related to what happened with Blaytz this morning?"

Alfor was very convincing at feigning ignorance. Coran was not, and Jalis flinched before he even tried.

She grimaced, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "...Really. _Really_. All _four_ of you were dumb enough to mess with the _Wayfinder High Commander's apprentice?!_ "

Jalis flinched harder, and even Coran winced. Alfor gave a quick glance around, and tapped something on his wrist, a panic button to ask Tila to check for any cameras or microphones; he let out a breath when that came back clear. 

"To be fair, we were trying very hard to _avoid_ her, and it was purely an accident," Alfor offered, shrinking back sheepishly at the sharp glare he got. 

It didn't stay on him very long; Jalis had cringed back and edged around to put the two of them between him and her.

"...Why are you - _what did you do?!_ "

"Absolutely nothing!", he blurted out, ducking to more obviously hide behind Alfor. Alfor considered objecting for a moment, but for all the dumb fights and headbutting he'd had with Jalis, for once they were in the same doghouse and it wouldn't do any good to throw him under the metaphorical launch loader.

She turned it back to Alfor, clearly expecting some explanation. He gave a shrug. "I have no idea what happened with him, but..."

"But?" She folded her arms.

"Well, the two of us and Blaytz both managed to get her ire by complete dumb accidents while trying to avoid it - it's really not hard to set her off like this." He motioned at the three of them and their shared conditions. "And if she were trying for some kind of actual hostilities, she'd have done more than Thirocax powder, Breen root, and hag-eels; I know our transgressions and Blaytz's were all really very stupid, and I'm sure Jalis's was as well - so we'd really prefer leaving this go so that it's behind us, the sooner the better." 

She considered that, giving the three of them one last hard look, before she sighed, relenting. "I suppose." 

Coran raised a hand. "Can we get a shower now?" He motioned at their door, and where the shower would be beyond it, and the glitter covering them all.

After a very long-suffering moment, she threw her hands up and turned to leave them to it. 

As soon as they were in the room and had privacy, Tila's concealable mini-drone crawled out of Alfor's coat, climbing back into the main drone while the three Alteans had a moment of registering one shower and three of them.

It didn't last very long before Alfor stepped back, motioning to Jalis. 

"You go first."

Jalis narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Are you sure? ... Is this some ploy to use me to find out if there's another trap in there?"

Alfor blinked; he honestly hadn't thought of it. "We - haven't checked, but no, you haven't annoyed me enough lately for that. I just thought you were the worst off with the breen root." He shrugged. "Enter at your own risk, I suppose?" 

Jalis squinted at Alfor, and then looked to Tila. "Well?"

There were a couple uncertain beeps from the drone. "As far as I know, there's nothing there, but there shouldn't have been anything there before. I'm going over the logs, give me a bit to see if I can figure out how she got past me. I put a lot of the main drone on standby when there's nobody in the room like this, yeah, but I still have sensors going with wakeup alerts..." She sounded like she was preoccupied with a deep personal offense.

Jalis finally squared his shoulders and marched into the bathroom with a faint grumble; there were a couple ticks as he got through the door where Alfor and Coran froze, waiting for something to happen that never came.

At least Trigel'd had some mercy in her revenge.

 

...................................................................................

Gyrgan knew there was trouble early the next morning when Trigel was too cheerful at breakfast. He's given up and tried to ignore the entire debacle with the Nalquodian delegation. Blaytz wasn't pursuing it at all, and while he did notice a few of the other Nalquodians watching and clearly putting together the puzzle pieces on Blaytz's increased fear and avoidance of Trigel with her smug preening, they all visibly opted to be as determined as he was to pretend they'd never noticed and avoid dealing with the whole thing.

Then she was more smug and cheerful in all the wrong ways, and Gyrgan decided it was time to be the voice of common sense.

"...You know, I really think the hag-eels were enough."

Trigel looked up from her bowl, eyes wide. "Really, you're that suspicious of me?" She batted her eyelids, drawing back with mock injury. "I'm wounded that you think I would drag a petty grudge out that far!"

Gyrgan just stared at her flatly. "What did you do this time."

"I have done nothing else to Blaytz whatsoever. The hag-eels were it, I am leaving him alone." 

There had to be a loophole somewhere in there, it was just a matter of figuring out what it was. "And you didn't put anyone _else_ up to hassling him, or give anyone any ideas?"

Trigel rolled her eyes. "Please, if I'm going to do something like this, I'm going to do it myself. Especially here, where someone slipping up might get traced back to me and cause an Incident."

She really was waving off that accusation with concern about 'causing incidents' and 'getting caught'. He pondered if it was even worth calling her on that, and decided it wasn't worth the effort; he already knew what the answers would be anyway. She knew what she was doing, it was her job to be able to not get caught, it was practice, it wasn't like she'd done any actual harm, on and on. 

Anyway, knowing her she wasn't lying outright, just playing word games or leaving something out; it was just a matter of figuring out what that was. She wasn't doing anything else to Blaytz herself, and she wasn't putting anyone up to it, which left two openings; either she'd already rigged something else that was just waiting to go off, or Blaytz hadn't been the target. For a while he was leaning heavily toward the former, since he wasn't aware of anyone else at the conference she'd consider a viable target pissing her off.

That lasted until they'd joined the more public areas and the Altean crown prince and his - roommate? Manservant? Partner? - walked in. Their clothes were fine, but the two Alteans themselves were a glittering multicolored mess. Not only that, they were noticeably keeping track of Trigel and avoiding her with the same sort of jumpy flinching that Blaytz had lapsed into towards her. There was even some bits of tell-tale multicolored glimmer on the other Altean prince when Jalis entered later, and he looked even more put out than the others, simultaneously glaring daggers and growling and trying to stay as far from Trigel as possible. 

Trigel was, of course, proudly smug when she saw it, even if she was trying to play it off as perfectly normal ego moments.

Gyrgan tried not to look at them too much - he didn't want to contribute to any potential trouble as a result of her shenanigans - but did fix her with the dull stare of Knowing Damn Well What She Did And Being Unimpressed And Disappointed. 

It only seemed to make her cheerful smug worse.

He'd hoped nobody else had noticed, but even that was too much. High Commander Falkir had a moment of pause after clearly noting the Alteans turning panicky and avoidant towards her apprentice, then watching Trigel's smug 'pretending not to see them' with clear recognition what it meant and resigned, exasperated regret written all over her face, staring off at the far wall for a few minutes and snagging a drink. 

Gyrgan could live with the High Commander noticing, even if her expression suggested that she'd mostly given up on getting Trigel to rein in some of her more ridiculous stunts. 

No, the point where he winced was when the Altean king went through almost the same progression of confusion at his son's behavior, following what the two Altean boys seemed to be reacting to, confused and somewhat horrified disbelief at Trigel, and then turning to watch the High Commander with her drink in serious thought and consternation. 

After a few doboshes, the Altean king wandered over toward the High Commander, and Gyrgan pointedly caught Trigel's arm to remind her that one of the tables as far as they could get from any Alteans had her favorite pastries and They Should Be Over There. Whatever exchange occurred was quiet, short, and left the High Commander snagging another drink with an even deeper thousand yard stare. 

At least the King seemed to opt for trying to ignore all of it, beyond some kind of even quieter exchange with the Queen that left her burying her face in one hand.

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Gyrgan grumbled.

"I do know what I'm doing." Trigel had stolen half the tray of flaky pastries that were more fruit and sugar than papery coating, and was taking her time with them as if it were some kind of victory prize. "Even if people figure out who's responsible, nobody's going to want to pursue pranks at a conference like this."

"You mean you're taking advantage of the leaders not wanting to declare stupid shenanigans an act of war or threat, even if you _were_ breaking into the rooms of hostile delegations for them."

She shrugged with an unconcerned and utterly noncommittal chirp around a mouthful of pastry. 

He sighed; he wasn't going to get anywhere with this, so he opted for claiming a couple heavier fruits off a tray and trying to not be too obviously minding where the victims and the leaders of their delegations were.

Even though he knew better than to ask, it was gnawing at him. "...I know why you went after Blaytz. I know Jalis has been hanging close around him here and all. Why the Crown Prince and his roommate?"

She looked up and over, acknowledging their existence long enough to shoot them a venomous, narrowed glare. "They started it, and they know what they did." 

"Have you at least gotten this out of your system?"

"For now." As soon as it was out, she stuffed half of one of the large fruit in her mouth.

He closed his eyes, grimacing with a deep rumble. "Willow help us all."

Trigel was content and utterly unrepentant - in fact, he had the feeling she was only egged on by his exasperation. 

***********************************

By the time the conference ended a couple quintants later, there had been no further incident. 

Well, no real further incident. Tila had figured out, with much cursing, that there'd been a very faint distortion that indicated some kind of device to short-term interfere with cameras and sensors, then a loop that indicated something had been set on her main drone to feed her sensors a fake set of readings of everything being normal and empty for a few doboshes - long enough to set the trap on the ceiling, which was concealed well enough to not show up on the cameras after. 

Alfor didn't even need to help her with recalibrating the wake-up alerts for the main drone to be more sensitive to the minor distortions from the interference; by the end of the conference she'd been paranoid and intent enough on it that he felt confident that she had no further signs of intrusion because Trigel didn't try to do anything else.

He only got a sentence of celebrating that she'd decided to leave them alone before Coran commented that she was probably just waiting until they weren't at a major diplomatic conference.

When the Castle routed to take them back to their campus, Alfor was working on designs for simple, non-harmful booby traps for the room, just in case, and the only protest Coran could find was that he needed to make sure it wouldn't accidentally go off on one of them if they forgot to disarm it on the way in. 

Even with that, it was a relief to get back to the dorms and away from needing to worry about politics and how much far-reaching impact there could be to anything.

**********************************************

"Was that really necessary?"

Trigel shifted, turning her attention to the wall; she did know where her limits were on what the High Commander would let her get away with, but it didn't save her from all reproach. "Not really. But it was worth it, and I got a good look at what they had for added security around their living quarters."

Falkir sighed. "The crown prince's little assistant drone is not exactly a secret. He is far from the only person who has one of those that they leave in their rooms on basic security settings while attending events where such devices are discouraged." 

"Do many Alteans have them modified with a hidden detachable module?" She tilted her head confidently. "The front lens assembly was missing when I was in the room, and the missing space was not only larger than would've been needed for just the lens, it was rebuilt into some kind of dock. I didn't see any sign of the separate part in the room, but I did see him saying something to something inside his coat a couple times during the conference." 

It did mitigate some of Falkir's frustration as she considered the implications. "Considering his interest in alchemy and engineering, it isn't too big of a surprise that it's been modified. It's worth keeping an eye out for, although I'm not sure it's much outside of what we already know of his penchant for sneaking around the outside of the rules." There were enough other situations where the drone would've been banned that the likely intent had been getting it in anyway. "Did you learn anything else of interest that you haven't already reported?"

Trigel shrugged. "Jalis is enough Davdabhau to've had a reaction to breen. Not a big discovery, after the Incident." 

"No, it isn't, although I still suspect Blaytz to have been the main instigator with Jalis pulled along for the ride." 

Trigel nodded. "That's about all I have to add to what I've already reported." It was enough to pretend she'd been doing something useful, even if they both knew it'd primarily been petty revenge. 

Falkir nodded with a thoughtful hum. "In the future, particularly as you take on more responsibility, you will have far less leeway to get away with these kinds of games. For now I can afford to let it slide, but there will be consequences in the future if you continue to take unnecessary risks with hostile powers." 

Trigel's ears ticked lower, and she folded her arms. "Understood, high commander." 

She'd gotten her warning, and she knew Falkir expected her to remember and mind those...

Which made 'not getting caught' far more of a priority now.

"So, out of that. You had little luck with Prince Zarkon, but that was expected; it's typical for Galra to be reticent with anyone unfamiliar, and anything that might mitigate that would draw too much of Veklor's attention. There's no cause for concern regarding our position with the Rygnirathi, and the situation with Nalquod is going to be largely dependent on the Galra and Alteans." 

As it stood, it was hostility by association with the Nalquodans backing up the Alteans where they could, but it was limited heavily by their more direct conflict with the Galra - they could only spare so much to support their allies, and the Dalterion Belt didn't have as direct of a quarrel with them as yet. They were allies with the Galra, but it was a very pragmatic alliance lately; nobody in the upper echelons of the Belt had any illusions that Veklor was maintaining it out of anything other than self-interest, and not very reliable self-interest at that. 

Altea was already in the process of training their likely heirs for a transition of power that could change the political landscape; Veklor had no intention of giving up the throne, but if Zarkon wasn't inclined to push him out soon, someone else would. 

"Zarkon will take time to feel out, and until then, we can't depend on anything one way or another moving forward, which leaves Altea." Falkir shifted in her seat, drumming her nails on the arm of the chair. "You've encountered both of the princes most likely to inherit the King's throne and be our direct concern; which one would you expect to claim it?"

Trigel shifted her jaw. Altean succession didn't make a great deal of sense; as far as they knew, it depended on some kind of ritual trial to determine who had the 'blessings of the ancestors and gods'. The only advantage the blood heir had was the right to be the first to attempt it. Even the Nalquodans who were close with them didn't have a great understanding of how it worked. 

The Queen was the primary ruler, but the King was responsible for much of their diplomacy, foreign affairs, and the military leader. 

"Considering that Alfor seems to be doing everything he can to avoid involvement?" Trigel raised an eyebrow. "Jalis; he's actually focusing on training and preparing for it." 

Falkir half-nodded, leaning her face against one hand. "That is what it's looking like. Which one would you consider the bigger threat if they take the throne?"

Trigel frowned. "Jalis is definitely more aggressive and far more focused on tactical and combat training, but..." 

"But?" Falkir shifted, hands folded over her face, watching intently.

"...Well, we know what he's capable of. Alfor might prefer running and hiding, but he showed up out of nowhere with an _Unilu raiding skiff_ from calling in gambling debts - who knows what he'd come up with if he were provoked?" 

Falkir raised an eyebrow, shifting to lean on the desk, revealing a faint smile. "And he bounced you off a wall with your own spear to get you away from his roommate." 

Trigel rolled her eyes. "Yes, he threw me into a wall."

"I suspect that he isn't as bad at tactical reasoning or his combat training as his official records sound, he just doesn't care enough to _try_. I imagine catching him sparring with someone as a game would be more accurate, particularly considering he's had an impressive record with strategic _games_ over the computer." 

Trigel was not sure she was happy that her instincts had proven right here. "So we hope that he continues to be a dilettante trying to avoid his responsibilities, because he's bloody _brilliant_ and would be an unholy terror of an enemy if he were to stop playing around and take things seriously." 

Falkir nodded. "By all means, find out more if you can, but do _not_ give him any reason to claim a personal stake in things. Jalis is very much in King Leander's mold, and we'll know what we're up against if he takes the throne - and if Alfor isn't provoked, we may be able to encourage him into abdicating entirely."


End file.
